Top Secret Spy Fantasies (2 page)

Dante
interrogates Rosalyn for the password while he keeps her bound in his hotel
room.

He
paces back and forth before the woman who is bound to the door. Dante has high
hopes she won’t cave immediately, there were always women who did, who gave the
safe word
or
the password before things even really got going, who might
even have regretted it after the fact. Dante knew that as intimidating as he
was, the fact that he was a good-looking man probably didn’t hurt his
percentages. Nearly ten percent more women stuck around for him than did for
every other guy who ran the kidnapper scenario. Once he’d even come up to the
room to find that she had never even bothered to show up. There were no
refunds, so barring a tip, which most people forgot to leave as they departed
their fantasy wobbly legged and mind blown, if the client didn’t want to go
through with it, it wasn’t any skin off Dante’s nose.

Except
that he damn well liked his work. This kidnapping scenario brought in women
with all kinds of kinks and the life and death scenario seemed to grease the
skids for every last perverted one of those kinks. When everything went right,
his job was the best in the world. When things didn’t go right, he got paid and
he went home. He just didn’t get laid. It wasn’t a bad deal.

This
woman has a tighter body than he had expected for her age. Pilates, he figures.
Or spinning.
Her breasts are small enough to still be
perky instead of sagging, and her nipples appear to be very hard. Usually it
was a combination of arousal and fear, but whatever it was now, he liked it.
The outfit had been chosen to push her buttons by the company, not with his
input, but he agrees with the choices.
Her breasts on display
and the shorts drawing attention to her nice long legs.
He grins.

She
follows him with her eyes as he paces back and forth before her like a caged
animal. She isn’t sure if he might move in quickly and attack her again, but
she doesn’t want him to take her by surprise. That had been terrifying, but in
the place of her mind that wasn’t locked to a wall, where the fight or flight
mechanism wasn’t giving her fits, she’s pretty sure that being that terrified
is an
amazing
feeling.

“Do
you know what happens now?” he asks, stopping his pacing before her.

Remembering
this time, she shakes her head.

“Well,
first I try to get the information I want out of you. And if that doesn’t work,
eventually we move onto your poor little sister, who really has nothing to do
with any of this. But if we have to, we will.”

She
opens her mouth, stops herself, and then slowly runs her tongue over her lips.

“Did
you want to say something?” he wonders.

“Please
don’t hurt my sister,” she says very quietly.

“Do
you want me to hurt you instead?”

She
shakes her head fiercely.

“Well
I’m not going to go around in circles with you. You don’t want us to work over your
sister, you won’t tell me what I want to know, so that means I get to go to
work on you. You brought this on yourself.”

He
pauses and then retreats to fix himself another drink. When he stands in front
of her again he takes a long, obscene, obvious look at her.
All
of her.

“Do
you have any suggestions?” he asks.

She
shakes her head.

“Really?
I’d have thought you had at least one. I mean, you came here dressed to get
fucked, so I figured that’d be your suggestion.”

“No!
This outfit—“

He
punches the door next to her head again, this time she feels his skin past her
ear. She wrenches away, held fast by her bonds, craning her neck away.

His
face remains completely still and calm when she finally finds the courage to
look at him.

“Did
you have something to say?” he asks.

Again
she shakes her head.

“That’s
funny, because I think you would have something to say. I think you need to
admit you wore that slutty little costume because you knew what you were going
to have to do.”

He
just stares at her until she finally gives him a hesitant nod.

“I
can’t hear you.”

She
swallows. “I wore this on purpose.”

“You
wore
what
on purpose?” he questions.

“I
wore this slutty outfit on purpose.”

“Because
you’re a little whore.”

She stares at him and
he doesn’t blink. She looks down and mumbles the words. Anyone would think they
were the truth, he reckons, at her reaction.

“I
couldn’t hear that,” he demands.

“I
wore this slutty outfit on purpose because I’m a little whore,” she says, her
voice quivering.

“Well
I’m glad we’re all on the same page, finally,” he smirks. “So,
now
, what
are you willing to do to keep your sister
safe.
”

She
looks clearly back at him this time.

“Whatever
I have to do,” she says firmly.

“Like
what?” he probes, looking at her like a specimen in a lab.

Seconds
crawl past and it becomes clear that he’s not going to help her out this time.

“You
can have me,” she says.       

“How?”
he asks, cruelly.

“You
can use my…my mouth,” she says, almost stuttering.

“And?”

She
doesn’t reply and so he steps forward and drops his hand so it brushes the
inside of her knee. He gently slides it up the inside of her thigh until it
almost rested against the lip of her—

“My…my
pussy,” she says finally.         

“Is
that all?” he asks, and she is momentarily confused. What else is there? When
the answer comes to her, she can’t speak.

“Ah
well,” he says. “That will do for a start.”

He
bends over the bed and pulls out a case from the other side. He opens it on the
bed and she catches a glimpse of a number of silver, shiny objects in the case.
She opens her mouth to beg for something, but closes it again.

When
he turns, she sees that he has some kind of medical scissors in his hand, ones
with a flat edge.

“Remarkably,
these won’t hurt you,” he says, “But they will make me happier.”

He
steps next to her and slides the cold, flat edge of the scissors across her
skin, which
twitches
and jumps at the cold contact. He
slides the blade beneath one corner of her bra and cuts and then cuts again. He
repeats the motion on the other side.  Makes two more cuts and then puts
the weapon in his pocket. He grabs the ring on the front of the collar at her
throat and pulls her away from the door. The bra falls away.

“Much
better,” he says, taking the tool out again.

This
time he slides the cool steel down the outside of one hip and then the other,
and the tight shorts fall away in the process. She shivers.

He
stands back and admires his work.

“That’s
looking better now,” he says. “That’s what a good slut should be wearing.
A collar and high heels.
And be strung up for the use of
whoever wants to use her. Isn’t that right?”

She
swallows and nods, and this time that seems to be good enough for him.  He
throws the scissors on the bed and steps toward her. He reaches out and cups
one cheek in an almost tender gesture.

“Will
you tell me now?” he asks gently.

She
shakes her head defiantly, some of her hair coming loose and scattering across
her face.

“Good,”
he says, and grins like a wolf.

He
begins to touch her then, not quite too hard, but firm enough that she knows
who’s in charge. He
kneads
her thighs, weighs her
breasts in his hands, feels her buttocks, turns her face this way and that, and
leaves her feeling both violated and exhilarated.

He
finishes handling her body and leaves her be, ignoring her for 15 minutes while
he watches TV. She sags against her bonds, not yet stiff or uncomfortable, but
feeling strangely left out and dismissed.

When
he returns his attention her way, he uses his mouth on her, intimately, but not
yet overtly sexually. He pulls her head to one side, not quite roughly, and
then kisses and licks the nape of her neck, causing her to shiver outright out
of pleasure for the first time all evening. He presses his lips to the sides of
her breasts, her breastbone, even comes so close to a nipple once that she
hopes he might accidentally brush against it. He softly works his mouth down
her stomach and treats her pussy the same way, coming close, kissing around it,
drawing
her undivided attention through the absence of
contact.

He
finishes toying with her and proceeds to take another break. But when he comes
back, the attention goes up another level.

This
time he takes her nipples in his mouth and she cannot help but moan. He nips at
them with his teeth and she cries out, but in a way that speaks of pleasure,
not pain. Finally, he falls to his knees, his face between her legs, and laps
softly at the outside of her cunt, tasting her arousal on the tip of his
tongue.

Her
breath deepens and, as he stands to his feet, a flush crawls up her chest. He
stops abruptly and returns to the TV.

This
time the wait is longer and she is almost beginning to squirm before he
returns. She finds herself consumed in anticipation, looking forward to what
might come next.
He pops open the suitcase once again and
pulls
out what almost looks like a white bowling pin.

There
is a wire that leads to a plug which he sticks into an outlet in next to the
television. He flicks on a switch, causing the contraption to hum, the top end
of it visibly vibrating. She gasps without thinking.

“Now
we’ll see how sensitive you are.”

The
machine still buzzing, he touches it to her left breast. She leaps at the
sensation, it’s too much, too tickly, too uncomfortable to be pleasurable. She
tries to withdraw, but has nowhere to retreat to. He gives her right breast the
same treatment, and then pulls the toy back. She knows where it will go next.

Her
heart is practically beating through her chest as she opens her mouth to beg
for mercy. She’s certain the feeling will be miserable, unbearable even. But
then it’s there, nudging up against her nether lips, forcing her to rise to her
toes. She feels it alright and surprisingly the last thing she wants to do now
is pull away. It’s almost like she’s being bathed in warm light charging up
from her center. Her head rocks backward on her neck, her eyes roll back and
her lids close, then pop open. And just like that it was gone.

He
gives her another break, and then comes back and shows her just one minute’s
attention with the vibrator. It’s enough to drive her mad! Not enough to get
anywhere, just enough to keep her on the edge, to make her whole body buzz with
pent up tension.

Finally,
after another break, she speaks.

“Please,”
she pleads.

He
eyes her. “Please what?”

Her
mouth opens but nothing comes out. She hasn’t actually thought that far ahead.

“Please…”
What does she want the most? “Please fuck me,” she implores.